


Summerday

by daggerpen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daggerpen/pseuds/daggerpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Valentine's Day fic for my main worldstate couples. Mistress Tabris/King Alistair, Male Hawke/Anders and Female Lavellan/Josephine, in that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Day for Weddings

**Author's Note:**

> A note about the setting: While it looks like Wintersend is closer to Valentine's Day in the Thedosian calendar, it seems like Summerday, being originally dedicated to the Old God of Unity and being a traditional marriage day, is more the equivalent of Valentine's Day in spirit. Thus, despite the two feet of snow still visible on the ground outside, I've chosen it as the setting for my Valentine's Day fics.

She comes back on Summerday, the streets of Denerim running thick with rain, days of storm only just broken and droplets clinging to the leaves of the Vhenadahl.

She stops by the Alienage first, of course. She always does, visiting friends and family and the Bann especially, taking her fill of complaints and petitions to bring to the ear of the King himself. Which she does, invariably, sheafs of parchment in a cramped, deft hand, learned carefully over the years since her Joining and stamped with every Seal she can manage to drop at his desk.

She takes her time, like always. The whispers reach him hours before the woman herself does - did you hear, the guards just saw her, said her armor looked half eaten, wonder what she's gotten into this time, do you think the king knows yet - and for all his slowly learned intricacies of the crown Alistair cannot bring himself to care what rumors he's confirming when he brings court to an end early, withdraws to his room with flowers and pastries and blueberry wine.

Warden-Commander Tabris seeks no audiences today, slipping in through the window she's told him hundreds of times to secure better and he never will. Tomorrow, perhaps, there'll be the formalities of the visit, announcements and pleasantries and charades, but tonight the only dances are their own, hand in hand as they twirl about the room.

"Summerday," Alistair says quietly. "The day you became a Warden."

"A day for weddings," she answers softly, and after all these years Alistair still sees the old pain in elven eyes. He wonders at it, quietly, that she would come back today of all days, to see the home she'd lost and still come straight to his arms. He brushes a hand over her face, gentle, and she leans into the touch, glancing up at him. "I never really wanted to be married, anyway," she says, and Alistair catches the dual meaning this time as she sweeps into the twirl.

"Your day," he says. "To spend however you'd like."

She smiles faintly as she draws closer, pulling his face down to meet hers. And for now, Alistair couldn't care less about titles or weddings or anything but the gentle warmth of skin on skin.

"I wish we had more time," Alistair admits after, arms held tight around a lover's shoulders.

"We will," she whispers back, but shakes her head at his questioning look. "Tomorrow," she says simply, drawing closer. "Today is our day. To make new memories."

"To Summerday," he says, and holds his lover while he can.


	2. A Day to Remember

Hawke remembers their last Summerday in Kirkwall.

He'd made the reservation months in advance. Imported chocolates weeks before, bought flowers the morning of, aided by the timely reminders he'd set Bodahn and Orana to in advance. Showed up at his Clinic at supper, offering gifts and an evening away from their troubles. Everything to make the day special.

And they'd had fun. They really had, a night dancing and laughing against the dark. But... it had been only months before they'd left the city for good, and most of all he remembers the tension. The agonizing frustration of Meredith's rule, watching everything they struggled for crushed under the city's military rule and waiting for things to come to a head. An omnipresent weight, lingering under the surface at every step, so pervasive he hadn't even noticed it until it was gone.

It's funny, now, for all the weights and struggles that have come to replace it... it's Summerday again today. There's no chocolate to be found for the fugitives, no fine restaurants and prepared bouquets, but there are wildflowers still, plucked before they can close, and the ocean is such a lovely spot for a picnic.

"You can't be serious," Anders says, with pleased, disbelieving laughter, and Hawke can't remember the last time he's felt so light as he takes his lover's arm, leading him towards the shoreline.

"I can't believe you remembered," Anders says, leaning against his shoulder as they watch the sunset after. "I know I didn't."

"... I may have overheard a washer woman when we stopped for supplies earlier," he admits, scratching his neck sheepishly and laughing.

"Oh, now there's the Hawke I know," Anders teases.

"You love me," Hawke tells him.

"For the rest of my life."


	3. A Night on the Town

She should have thought this through.

She really, really should have thought this through.

It had seemed such a lovely, romantic notion. Her books had always talked about this sort of thing, after all, and Cassandra had agreed, it was a lovely idea. A date night out in Val Royeaux, away from the responsibilities of the Inquisition, not Inquisitor Lavellan or Ambassador Montilyet, just two lovers on a warm Summersday.

One of the holiest holidays in Orlais.

In its capitol.

Without a dinner reservation.

Creators, she should have thought this through. She'd known for ages that the realities of the Inquisition were nothing like life with her clan, and yet she'd still expected to be able to simply show up at a restaurant and be seated as normal?

Why had she been so dead set on making this a surprise? If she'd just thought to ask Josephine, she could have realized her error well in advance. But the diplomat had been so overworked lately, and it had seemed like such a nice gesture to just this once plan something for _her_ instead.

The first two places they try can do nothing. The Inquisitor's name carries great weight here now, but there are simply no tables left available, and neither of the lovers would feel right turning out another couple. The third place hasn't the room for additional seats, but they do, at least, set up a table out back by the docks, just on the edge of the cafe's seating.

"... the sea is lovely today," Josephine says consolingly, but that hardly improves her mood.

"I'm so sorry, Josephine," she says. "I wanted to surprise you..." she buries her face in her hands. "I guess I did."

"My love, please-" Josephine takes her hand, tilting her chin up gently. "It's quite all right."

"I just wanted you to be happy," she says quietly.

"Darling," she says, a little sternly. "I am having a romantic dinner with the woman I love by the shore. There are no messengers, or papers, or any other responsibilities to worry about right now." Josephine reaches up to cup her face. "I am."

"Really?" she asks.

Josephine smiles. "Really."

... perhaps the ocean breeze is rather nice, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one dedicated to that time my parents decided to book a trip to Rome on Easter Weekend without reserving a hotel.


End file.
